by James Young
There was stunned silence over the net for a moment.
“And the preferred drink of Wing Commander O’Connor is gin, neat,” Adam said. “Feel free to see if he appreciates your English accent, I’m sure your dentist will appreciate the business.”
The last comment was answered with several whistles and catcalls about Bowles’ bravery and general common sense. Adam allowed himself a small smile.
That’ll teach him to remember that old saying about old age and treachery versus youth and exuberance, he thought to himself.
Forty-five minutes later Adam stood in front of the gathered pilots, the engine on his fighter ticking over behind him. The fifteen men all had various degrees of attentiveness, ranging from Bowles’s glowering indifference to the rapt attention of a couple of the more junior pilots, fresh from the Pensacola aviation cadet class.
“Okay, what did we learn?” Adam began.
“That the Spitfire is faster than a Wildcat,” Burke said grimly. There was murmured assent from around the group.
“In level speed, you’re right,” Adam said. “That is one thing all of you must remember—our fighter is not that fast.”
“So what you’re telling us is that we’re all going to die when we go to war,” Captain Bowles said, his tone just short of belligerence. “Guess my mother is going to be a widow and out her only child.”
“Only if you’re too dumb to listen,” Adam replied. I’m tired of this man. “My father tells me that’s a paternal trait, which makes it pretty obvious why you’re a half orphan.”
Bowles reacted exactly as Adam predicted he would, dropping his helmet and starting to stalk forward with an inarticulate cry. Adam waited for him to throw the first punch, a clumsy haymaker that he shifted most of the way out of, allowing the man to connect with his shoulder.
Having satisfied his right to self defense, Adam tripped the off balance captain while shoving him in the back.
Looks like all those years of tussling with the security folks taught me more than I thought, Adam observed as Bowles hit his face on the tarmac. Before the man had time to realize to gather his thoughts, Adam was swinging around to kick Bowles hard in his posterior. The blow sent the captain forward into a heap under the Wildcat’s wing.
“Thank you again, Captain Bowles, for volunteering so I can prove a point,” Adam said simply, his voice sounding as steady as during classroom instruction. “As you can see, Captain Bowles is arguably faster, younger, and quicker than me. Yet he is the one who is currently up against the side of my Wildcat.”
The entire squadron’s attention was focused on him now, many of their mouths open in shock. Watching Bowles start to struggle to his feet out of the corner of his eye, Adam continued with his instruction.
“The reason this happened is that I took advantage of my inherent advantages,” Adam continued. “In the case of the Wildcat, this aircraft’s advantages are its rate of dive, especially against most European fighters. In a dive, the Spitfire is nowhere near as fast as the Wildcat.”
Adam saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned into the blow that Bowles was throwing. To the bystanders it appeared that Bowles had caught him full on in the head, where in reality Adam’s stepping into it had shortened the force by a considerable margin. If Bowles hadn’t committed fully committed himself to the punch, Adam might have been in serious danger. As it was, it took him a second to get his balance back, but when he did it was behind a left-right-left combination that left Bowles unconscious on his back.
“Much like the Spitfire, Captain Bowles apparently cannot handle much punishment,” Adam said, flexing his hands. “On the other hand, as you all saw a few weeks ago, the Wildcat is built to take a licking.”
Scanning the squadron, Adam was shocked to see the Air Wing Commander, Lieutenant Colonel King. The man had a scowl on his face, but had yet to say anything.
Well I’ve got a whole squadron of witnesses that will say that bastard threw the first punch even if you didn’t see it, sir, Adam thought angrily.
“This also means if you have to get into a head-on run with an enemy fighter, especially a Jap, you’ll likely survive,” Adam said. He looked down at Bowles’s prostrate form and shook his head.
“Remember,” he continued, looking back over the squadron, “air combat is not only about who has the fastest or prettiest plane.”
I’m starting to make them understand, Adam thought with a glow of pride, seeing several of the men starting to nod their heads.
“It’s who has the better tactics and keeps his head out of the cockpit,” Adam finished. He took a moment to let that lesson sink in, then turned to Lieutenant Colonel King.
“Sir, do you have anything else to add?” Adam asked, his tone nonchalant.
“Captain Burke, Lieutenant Ratford, pick up young Captain Bowles and take him to the stockade,” King snapped. “Turn him over to Commander Sherman with my compliments, he should know you are coming by the time you get there. Major Haynes, I need to see you in my office in thirty minutes after you get some ice on your knuckles.”
With that, King turned to leave.
“Squadron attention!” Adam barked. After Lieutenant Colonel King walked off, he turned back to the assembled group.
“You guys are dismissed until 1700, at which point we will all meet at Mustin Hall so that Yellow Flight can ante up on the beers. Any questions?”
The pilots all looked back and forth at one another, at Burke and Ratford as the two officers picked the unconscious Bowles up, then back at Adam.
“All right, get out of here,” Adam said. “See you in a few hours.”
Precisely nineteen minutes later, Adam was standing in front of Major Anthony’s desk. The slightly heavyset adjutant was looking at Adam with a bemused smile on his face.
“You know, you really have a knack for sticking a very short stick into hornets’ nests,” Anthony observed.
“It’s a gift,” Adam responded dryly.
“Major Anthony, if that’s the good Major Haynes, please send him in,” Lieutenant Colonel King boomed from his office. “I’ll save him the trouble of knocking his knuckles on yet another hard object today.”
Anthony gestured towards the office door, mouthing a ‘good luck’ for Adam’s benefit. Adam strode into the wing commander’s office and came to attention.
“Major Haynes repor…” he began.
“Dammit Haynes, you’re not in trouble—much anyway,” King snapped, cutting him off. The manstood in front of a small coffee pot, adding cream to a large porcelain mug. “Shut the damn door.”
Adam complied with the order, then turned back around.
“Coffee, Major?” Lt. Col. King asked genially, his tone nonchalant. The hairs rose on the back of Adam’s neck, alarm bells going off in his head.
“No thank you, Sir,” Adam replied.
“Oh, please, I insist,” King replied. “I mean, given that you are apparently just a guest here in my wing, and not actually a subordinate officer, I must do my best to make you comfortable.”
Adam practically felt the air around him drop in temperature as King’s eyes met his.
Oh sweet Jesus, he is pissed, Adam thought.
“I mean, after all, conducting a mock dogfight with your former RAF buddies without my knowledge, teaching your pilots non-standard tactics, and, most importantly, goading one of your less-liked officers into striking you so that you may be rid of him are all indicators that you must have been frocked to lieutenant colonel by your friends in high places,” King continued. “I guess the paperwork just hasn’t crossed Major Anthony’s desk yet or he would have informed me.”
“Sir, we are at war,” Adam said. “Like football, the only way I can get them ready for a game is to practice at game speeds. I was merely utilizing the resources at hand.”
“Oh, so pray tell what would have happened if something had gone wrong?” King asked, his tone making it clear he was not buying what Adam was sellin
g. “Like, oh, a collision? Say you killed one of our RCAF friends? Think your little analogy would keep anyone from sending you on a long vacation to Leavenworth?”
“Sir, while my training tactics are a bit unorthodox, they will save this wing several pilots once the bullets start to fly,” Adam responded, his voice contrite. “With your permission, I would like to continue practicing with the British pilots.”
“Permission denied,” King said sharply, holding up his hand before Adam could continue. “I received the order last night to prepare this wing for transport, with a report date in San Diego within two weeks. The ground personnel are to be on trains within one week, we’ll fly the aircraft out after that.”
Adam’s face registered his shock.
“Sir, who is going to provide fighter defense for Florida?” Adam asked.
“I’ll get to that in a moment,” King snapped. “When we get to San Diego, we will be traveling by ship to Hawaii.” He handed Adam a copy of the orders so that the junior officer could quickly scan them.
“In Hawaii there are sufficient pilots and aircraft to form two composite squadrons from the Marines there,” King said. “I have to leave one squadron here at Pensacola. Given that you are my most experienced squadron commander, I want to have you form the Hawaii composite squadron.”
Adam felt as if someone had just taken a running start and kicked him in the stomach.
I’m being relieved, he thought. His face must have reflected his disbelief because King quickly raised his hand.
“Trust me Major, this is not be a relief or discipline action,” King stated, tone slightly more amiable. “I have already contacted General Geiger with this proposal and he stated it was up to you, but he agrees that you’re the best man for this job. You’ve only had the squadron for two weeks, so I think that it will cause little turmoil amongst your men.”
King’s statement made Adam think of something.
“Will West and Burke keep their flights if I go out to Hawaii?” Adam asked.
“That would be up to the incoming squadron commander,” King replied. “At this time I do not know whom that would be.”
Adam thought for a moment, then made his decision.
“Sir, I must respectfully refuse,” Adam said simply.
King sighed, shaking his head.
“You realize this might be your last and best chance to get into the fight, don’t you?” King said. “I mean, there are already murmurs about your relatively advanced age compared to the rest of the pilots.”
“Sir, I can’t abandon my men, even to get into the fight,” Adam said. “With the exception of Bowles and his little coterie, they’ve all followed me and given 100% so far. If it means I get stuck here in Pensacola for eternity, then so be it.”
“I knew you were going to say that, and so did General Geiger,” King said. “This means I’ve got to drop the other shoe…we’re taking your aircraft also. Your squadron is going to transfer to Bremerton to help form another wing.”
“Sir, what good are we going to be without our aircraft?” Adam asked. “While I’m sure it’s possible to shoot down Japanese aircraft with sidearms, I’d imagine it’s a bit difficult.”
“They need your aircraft pretty badly in the Pacific,” King replied, smiling slightly at Adam’s comment. “VMF-14 got torpedoed on the way to Wake Island and lost almost all of their pilots and all but four of their aircraft.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Adam said. “Are those some of the pilots that will be forming the composite squadron?”
“Yes, they are,” King replied. “The two senior survivors are coming back for a War Bonds tour—they killed some Japanese aircraft during the Battle of Hawaii I’m told.”
“Are they both getting promoted?” Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No, they’re both junior captains,” King replied. “But that’s not important.”
“When does my squadron leave?” Adam inquired, taking the hint.
“You have one week,” King replied. “Good news is that you’ll fall in on new Wildcats when you get out there. Apparently they’ve got General Motors putting together planes now.”
“I can only imagine that’s like putting different color lipstick on a pig,” Adam muttered.
“Either way, Major Anthony already has your orders cut,” King said.
Adam looked at Lieutenant Colonel King in surprise.
I guess he really did know what I was going to do, he thought.
“Remember, Major Haynes, loyalty is an admirable trait in a commanding officer up to a certain point,” King noted. “Once past that point, however, it becomes a fault.”
“Understood, sir,” Adam replied. “What are we going to do about Captain Bowles?”
“Well, if Commander Sherman does what I asked him to do, you’ll be gone before Bowles even gets a chance to make a phone call,” Lieutenant Colonel King observed. “He’s going to be in pre-trial confinement on bread and water for the next two weeks. After that, it will be the post commander’s headache as he will no longer be assigned to my wing or your squadron. But no, he won’t get a court-martial if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Dammit,” Adam said, shaking his head.
“I don’t disagree with your actions on a personal level, Major,” King intoned, “but on a professional level I’d advise you to not do something like that ever again. In this case you have sixteen witnesses, including myself, that saw him take the first swing. Even so, if this were the peacetime Marines, I would have had to relieve you.”
Adam took a deep breath and nodded.
I have to not let my temper get the better of me, he thought. Still, bastard had it coming.
“Still, striking at a superior officer is something no one above us can argue with, no matter how distraught the man was,” Lieutenant Colonel King stated. “I’m not wasting any more of our time on him and neither are you. Get your orders from Major Anthony and start getting your men ready to depart.”
“Aye-aye, sir,” Adam responded, coming to attention and saluting.
“Major Haynes, it’s been a pleasure,” Lieutenant Colonel King said, his features softening as he returned the salute. “Good luck to you.”
“The feeling is mutual, sir,” Adam replied. “Good hunting, and give Mr. Tojo and his friends my regards.”
“Will do,” King replied.
Adam closed the door to the wing commander’s office then turned to find Major Anthony. The adjutant smiled as he handed Adam several sheets of paperwork.
“Good luck to you, Major Haynes,” Anthony said.
“No, good luck to you, Major Anthony,” Adam stated. “You guys are the one going to a war zone.”
“Somehow, I think that you’ll find a way to the fight yourself,” Anthony said, a slight smile on his face. “I don’t see you missing your chance to kill someone…again.”
Adam didn’t quite know how to take the adjutant’s comment. He was about to respond when the phone on Anthony’s desk jangled.
“I’ll let you get that,” Adam said, giving a wave.
Distracted by what needed to be done, he stepped out of the headquarters door and nearly ran a woman over.
“Excuse me, how clumsy of me,” Adam said, reaching his hand out to keep the woman from falling. With a flash he recognized her. “Mrs. Burke, I’m sorry.”
The woman considered him with her eyes. A slight smile reached her lips.
“Are you truly sorry, Major Haynes?” she sneered. “Or were you already apologizing before you realized who it was?”
I don’t think either one of us want me to answer that, Adam thought, stiffening. He was about to open his mouth to take his leave of Mrs. Burke before she placed a hand on his arm.
“Major Haynes, please, a moment,” the woman said. Adam thought, looking her in the eyes.
“There is talk among the wives of a move to Hawaii,” Mrs. Burke said. “Can you let me know if this is true?”
Adam looked at the woman, dum
bstruck.
Okay, someone here is definitely blabbing to the wrong people, he thought, stunned. Wait, I bet I know how she got that information from…
“No I may not,” Adam snarled. “I would advise you to speak to Chaplain Grimes or your husband, Mrs. Burke.”
Mrs. Burke pursed her lips.
“Chaplain Grimes is no longer speaking with me, Major Haynes,” she said quietly.
Adam gave the woman a hard look, his facial expression revealing his thoughts quite clearly: If he hadn’t found you nude in another officer’s home, this might not be a problem.
“Then I do not know what you are speaking about Mrs. Burke,” Adam replied simply. “I do not know what rumors are being passed among the wives, nor do I care. If you’ll excuse me.”
With that, Adam took his arm out from under her hand, turning to leave. To his surprise, he could hear Mrs. Burke starting to follow him.
“You know, Major Haynes, people make mistakes and things are not always as they seem,” Mrs. Burke called after him. Adam could have sworn that there was an element of hurt in her voice, but he had finally had enough.
“Mrs. Burke, you are married to one of the finest pilots in my squadron, yet you chose to and continue to fuck,” Adam said, emphasizing the word to Mrs. Burke’s obvious shock at being cursed at, “another one of my pilots. That is not a mistake, but an indication of character.”
“Major Haynes, please, lower your voice…” Mrs. Burke said, her face pale and voice panicked as she looked over his shoulder.
“I was told that you had gone to live with your relatives, but apparently you do not have an ounce of shame in your body,” Adam continued, his voice hot. “This is not my problem, but what is my problem is that you continue to be a distraction to my squadron and my pilots. If you wish for me to ‘lower my voice’, then please do not accost me again until such time as you have decided to honor your marital vows.”
Mrs. Burke’s hand flew to her mouth as she continued looking past Adam. Wondering what she was so fixated on, Adam turned to look behind him and found himself almost face-to-face with Virginia King, the wing commander’s wife, standing behind him. A tall, regal-looking woman with graying brunette hair, she was looking at Adam in shock.
